A Moment Forever

by Cat Gardiner

  Anna sat across from her son, watching him eat and noting his sudden silence. With a mother’s loving concern, she changed the subject. “This girl, Elizabeth, must be special to spend your last day with.”

  “She is.”

  “Is she Jewish?”

  Shoveling food into his mouth and not meeting his mother’s inquisitive gaze, he continued to stare at the Hebrew newspaper before him. “No.”

  She shrugged a shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

  “You did not tell her that we are, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Good. Is she Dutch?”

  “No.”

  Her hand reached out to Will’s, stilling the fork. “Are you in love with her, engel?”

  Will sheepishly looked up from his eggs; a tender smile formed upon his lips. “Getting there.”

  ~~*~~

  Lizzy impatiently waited at the Yacht Club, unknowingly redirecting her energetic anticipation into a makeshift dance of sorts, shifting from foot to foot. Ducky was late, and she prayed he hadn’t changed his mind. With her back to the shingled Cape Cod-styled boathouse, she eagerly watched for his arrival, feeling guilty that he offered to come all this way once again. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting on treating her with gentlemanly protocol.

  She looked down at the picnic basket Mrs. Davis filled, resting at her sandaled feet beside another square, leather case, and thought how she should have worn her boat shoes. But then they wouldn’t have matched her outfit, and she wanted to look especially smart, wearing her blue and white playsuit with button skirt. A white, brimmed hat with a wrap scarf protected her from the sun’s harshness even before it reached its noontime peak. Eager barely described how she felt, and she had the butterflies to prove it. They seemed to be attacking her from the inside, fluttering rapidly awaiting Will’s arrival.

  The barrage of nerves worsened the moment the yellow checker taxicab pulled into the dirt parking lot at the bottom of the hill, stopping beside the Zephyr. She gracefully signaled to her date, raising one hand in the air from her strategically visible position, tempering her excitement to jump on the balls of her feet and wave enthusiastically.

  Will exited, looking relaxed and handsome wearing casual trousers and a ribbed slipover and shirt. He sheepishly smiled at her, and paid the taxi driver. Lizzy had yet to see him in civvies and became embarrassed when he caught her obvious appreciation as her eyes drank him in, top to toe, from that enticing wave of hair at his forehead to the rubber-soled boat shoes he wore.

  In similar fashion, his own heart nearly stopped seeing her lean against the building the way she did with the drape of her skirt opening to show shapely, bare legs posed with one foot’s sole against the shingles. Her risqué, bare midriff seductively displayed tanned flesh. Even from the distance of thirty feet, he could see that sparkle of excitement in her eyes held at bay behind a saucy expression.

  “Beautiful day today,” he said with a smile that flooded his eyes as he approached her, holding a small box.

  “Yes it is, but can you hear the train?”

  “Ghosts of your grandfather, come to make sure I behave?” He tilted his head to listen carefully for the sound.

  She nervously chortled. “Probably to see that I behave. There’s an old folklore on the Sound that says if you can hear the train, it’s going to rain. We might be in for a storm later.”

  Will bent to her, and she breathed in his fresh, shaved scent that she liked so much.

  “We’ll have fun anyway, and if we get caught in the rain, so be it.” He held out the box. “This is for you. I couldn’t resist when I saw it at the flower shop beside the train station. I hope you like it.”

  Lizzy took the gift from his grasp and carefully opened it. Inside sat two white flowers entwined upon a hair comb. Immediately, their sweet scent wafted upward. “They’re so lovely; gardenias are one of my favorites. Thank you, Will.” She removed her hat. “Will you help me?”

  His hand trembled slightly when he removed the flowers from the box and slid the comb into the side of her wavy locks. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was as nervous as she. Already, all she wanted to do was to kiss those soft lips of his again. The thought of a day spent gazing at that killer-diller dimple and cleft chin was a delightful prospect. Add the thoughtfulness of the flowers along with the gesture of travel to see her, and she was positively over the moon. Both spoke volumes of his interest, not to mention the fact that he had asked for this second date with the words, “Will I have the pleasure of spending another day with you before my departure on the seventeenth?”

  “How do I look?” she preened, tucking a stray hair behind her ear with her pinky then tilting her head from side to side to show him all angles of the ornament.

  Will smoothed his thumb over her cheek, once again spellbound. “Beautiful, but not because of the flowers.”

  She instantly feigned the coquette, boldly batting her eyelashes. “Oh, you are a wolf, Lieutenant.”

  After looking right then left to make sure they were alone, he bent his head close to hers, hovering.

  Lizzy raised her chin, positioning her mouth toward his and expectantly waited. Their lips held a hair’s breadth from one another, his eyes locking with hers as he watched her pupils dilate and lips part. Oh, yes, she wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to give one to her. From her parted, willing lips, he could almost hear her increasing ragged breath as it tickled his mouth.

  Lizzy’s knees felt weak, her heart thundering in excitement. She closed her eyes in anticipation, slightly puckering her lips.

  Tingles upon her flesh followed the slow grazing of the back of Will’s fingers up the side of her neck. They languidly tickled the throbbing pulse running straight to her heart. She breathed in deeply in want and expectation, swooning from the sweetness of his breath when he whispered, “I’m not a wolf—yet, but I’m open for instruction.”

  She opened her eyes, meeting his impassioned ones. Resisting the urge to kiss him audaciously, Lizzy breathed a thoroughly discombobulated, “I’m ... a patient teacher.”

  She didn’t want to act like Gloria, but dang if she wasn’t happy by his proclamation, even if a kiss didn’t follow it. She knew that in spite of his strong and serious personality, which she felt instinctively drawn to, once his levee broke, theirs would be a whirlwind, exciting romance. But there was little precious time. He was leaving for Florida the next day.

  Will smiled and reached down to pick up the wicker picnic basket as his free hand entwined with hers. They walked along the side of the boathouse making small talk about his trip out, both feeling that being together was the most natural thing in the world.

  Their arrival at the long dock, once again, cast a striking light on the obvious gap in their disparate social standings exemplified by the bobbing, luxury, pleasure boat tethered to the dock.

  Will cocked an eyebrow, looking down at her. “I thought you said we were going sailing?”

  “I never said sailing. I don’t sail. I said boating. Do you like her? She’s number seven out of only nineteen manufactured. It’s a Chris-Craft Hydroplane.”

  Across the stern of the boat, in gold script was the name Flying Home. Above it, a small—and surprising—American flag raised up from the shiny, wood hull, waving in the breeze.

  “She’s a beauty,” Will declared in awe, admiring the sleek, barrel-shaped hull and bow. At only about sixteen or so feet, it was just small enough for her to bullet through the water at maximum velocity—and burn through fuel. “Flying Home, indeed.”

  “It’s my favorite song.” She squeezed his hand and turned, speaking with sincerity. “C’mon, let yourself go today. Forget about the war, Will. You leave tomorrow, so let’s make today memorable. Don’t worry about the gas ration. Mr. Billings fills the fuel, Father pays the sales invoice, and I get to fly around the Sound with my flyboy.”

  Yes, I am your flyboy and today is already memorable. He chortled. “What happened to all
that excitement about doing your bit? You’re incorrigible, you know.”

  “Yes, I am. I thought you figured that out already.” Lizzy stepped into the boat and stood in the narrow, red upholstered cockpit. With a beaming, mischievous grin, she reached out her hand, wiggling her fingers for the picnic basket.

  “What’s in that case?” he asked, pointing to the latched box she had placed on the floor of the cockpit.

  “You’ll see. Now unhitch the boat, Lieutenant and let’s fly!”

  Will stood at attention, saluting her, and she laughed that wicked laugh of hers, which grew when she saw how he shook his head, smiling at her determination. It was obvious to him how she just loved to press his buttons.

  Only a matter of minutes passed before Lizzy put her sunglasses on, turned the key and, with the press of a button, the throaty growl of the engine bellowed to life. She sat at the helm ready for action as though master and commander, adorned by those pristine white flowers staring back at him. It was when she turned her head with another one of those smiles of hers and patted his hand in mocking reassurance, his heart stopped for the second time in the short span of thirty minutes.

  Already, it was an unforgettable day. The promise of her luscious lips upon his, combined with the warming brilliance of the sun, the crisp blue sky, and the commingling of the salty air with Lizzy’s jasmine—now gardenia—infused perfume relaxed him. Several white sea gulls in flight surrounded the boat, seemingly laughing along with her infectious exuberance contributing their distinct ha-ha-ha call. He felt that liveliness, too. That energy of hers made the worries plaguing his heart and the realities of the war—bombers, the Pacific, Paris—all seem so far, far away.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “My life is in your hands, Pistol.”

  “Good, that’s just the way it should be. Do you trust me?”

  He meant it when he replied, “Implicitly.” For all Lizzy’s wildness, he truly felt he could trust her with his heart. During those two sweet kisses the night of their first date, he felt it upon her lips, a sweetness and honesty as genuine and lasting as the emotion he put behind its delivery.

  Smoothly, the boat pulled away from the dock into the Sound. “Unfortunately, we can’t go out too far. Mr. Billings cautioned me about the Coast Guard trolling for mines, especially today.”

  “Why especially today?”

  She felt proud, for a change, to be the one to inform him on war news, as though “in the know” on all things naval. “He told me that a steam merchant ship was torpedoed by a U-boat last night off Cape Cod, but don’t worry, we can stay in the harbor close to the shore. I can still point out some of the local sights of interest and there probably won’t be many boaters out today, given the prediction of rain.”

  “The train’s prediction?”

  “See, you’re thinking like a boatman already.” She pointed to the rocky shoreline where some local residents walked with metal buckets. “Over there, they are shell fishing mussels from the rocks. Poor things, having to resort to eating them. Blech! Muscles are hardly a delicacy, unless of course they’re on bomber pilots.”

  He thought he saw her wiggle her eyebrows flirtatiously behind her white sunglasses.

  She throttled the boat a smidgen faster. “The harbor is abundant in oysters and clams though. Sometimes Johnny takes me out to fish for mackerels just for kicks, and Mrs. Davis loves those Littlenecks we bring back for her.”

  “John fishes? I wouldn’t think so.”

  “There’s a lot about Johnny one wouldn’t think. Behind his smile, he hides a lot. For example, he’s sicker than he lets on.” She looked at him, holding his gaze pensively. “He has asthma. Lately, he’s been using those special cigarettes of his. Of course, everyone thinks he’s smoking a Viceroy because he explains that fags smell differently than American ones. I think I’m the only one who knows about how truly ill he is and that’s only because I threatened to tell Ingrid he had a crush on her the year of her debut.”

  “So not even Ingrid knows?”

  “Well, Johnny and I have a unique friendship. He doesn’t want anyone to think he’s … well, you know … inferior in any way, and he knows it wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

  “So his 4F is the real McCoy. That’s a tough break.”

  “He only thinks it’s a tough break because his father treats him much like my sisters treat Kitty, as though he’s sickly or weak, but mainly with indifference simply due to his illness.” She snorted a sarcastic laugh. “The Robertsen family has kept his asthma a deep, dark, safely guarded secret. Brilliant beyond belief, heir to a fortune, heart of gold and his father won’t let him work toward victory. It’s a shame, really.”

  “I would imagine that with Ingrid being his girl and all, she would be concerned at the very least. If she loves him then it wouldn’t make a difference if he was ill or not. Right?”

  “You don’t know my sister—and in truth I don’t think she loves him. In fact, I think she’s incapable of love. She and I don’t quite get along.” She turned her head and started to whistle a snappy tune, clearly changing the topic of her sister.

  Will shook his head, feeling remorse about the small jealousy he held in his heart for the man with whom she spent so much time.

  As he looked up at the many magnificent mansions perched in the hills above them, he imagined their expansive views of the Sound. Feeling the gentle breeze in his hair, he breathed deeply—reflectively. Even the affluent had their troubles. Something deep within him stirred, and a surge began, which he hadn’t felt since Louie and he rode the Cyclone roller coaster at Coney Island in ’36. Life was short and getting shorter. “How fast can this baby go, Pistol?”

  She squealed in delight. “Glad you asked! Hold on, Ducky!”

  It was as though her floodgates opened with his green light of encouragement because the hydroplane was now cruising at top speed. The bow rose, floating above the water with barely even a slap, the stern hardly leaving a wake as it skimmed the harbor with a hard spray that dissipated in the sea air behind them. The speed of the engine purred in time with the determined flap of Old Glory as Lizzy’s Flying Home flew the coop with exhilaration.

  Clearly an Ace in the cockpit, standing at the controls, Lizzy expertly handled the boat and laughed with a big “Woo hoo!” Her joyous howl was carried away in the wind along with Will’s normally stoic reserve. The flowers he gave her, remarkably, remained pinned behind her ear as the other side of her hair blew wildly just like her untamed spirit. She began to sing notes from the boat’s namesake. With jitterbug feet and swiveling hips to the tune, she boogied behind the steering wheel.

  He knew then, he had fallen in love with her. Her live wire connected straight to his heart. She was the long awaited lightning bolt, shocking him to life.

  Impulsively, Will slid closer to her and slipped his arm around her slender waist. He pulled her down beside him onto the seat. The boat slowed, dropping the bow into the water in her distraction. Turning her body to face him, he leaned her against the bulkhead, his lips poised at the ready to plunder her luscious mouth only an inch below his.

  Lizzy grinned with expectation. Her cheeks were flushed waiting for the inflamed kiss of deep passion she had hoped for in her dreams the last three nights.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said with seductive intonation while removing her sunglasses. “And we’re not talking a tiny peck of admiration upon your cheek or given with any modicum of gentlemanly restraint. I’m warning you that this kiss—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence because her hand came around the back of his head, pulling him to her. Consuming lips and petting hands barely controlled themselves as they simultaneously gave into the escalating passion coursing through them.

  Will’s hand hesitantly explored her bare midriff, brushing against her heated skin, reveling in her softness.

  Lizzy moaned clasping her right hand around his bicep, her other snaking through his hair, clutching him to
her. His scorching lips adhered to hers and the surprise entry of his exploring tongue made her feel things she had never felt before.

  He was near lying upon her and fighting the strong temptation to caress her in other places, inch his hand upward to unknot her blouse, but that would have been beyond the pale. Decorum and desire fought one another because her siren call was too great for this mere mortal man. Her lips tasted as sweet as she smelled, as heavenly as she looked, as thrilling as she felt, and as perfect as each mew sounded when she responded to him in ways he had only dreamt she would.

  Their combined intensity grew but before it truly unleashed, his restraint mere degrees from snapping, he breathlessly parted from her, gazing into her eyes, now deep hunter green and dilated with hunger.

  “Now, I’m a wolf,” he stated, his breath ragged.

  “Wow,” she barely enunciated but definitely conveyed. It was more a fast expulsion of air that tickled his still hovering lips when it came out. Their heavy pants commingled, becoming one breath. “Wow,” she breathed again.

  His heart pounded as though twice its size against his chest wall, overwhelming him with intense emotion. Leaning only fractions away from her, admiring her thoroughly kissed lips, now swollen with passion. Words popped into his mind, Open up your heart, and let this fool rush in.

  “Will you be … my girl, Lizzy?”

  She ran her hand through his hair and pulled him back down to her lips. “Will, I’ve been your girl from the moment I ran you off the road.”

  ~~*~~

  Eleven

  Taking a Chance on Love

  June 16, 1942

  Flying Home bobbed in the gentle waves where Lizzy and Will had beach anchored it from the bow as close to the sandy shoreline as they could get. She had been correct; not many boaters or sunbathers were out on a day when rain was forecast, let alone it being a Tuesday. Now with the war on, the various ship builders that lined the harbor’s coastline were open around the clock, and weekends were hard to come by. Like every other day, everyone was hard at work—everyone except this Army Air Forces pilot and his debutante sweetheart.